Who'd dump a pair of Guinea pigs in the woods?

On Sunday, just before sundown, I was running in some woods near my house in South Jersey, when I stumbled upon a black Lab, motionless in the middle of a trail, its eyes locked onto something strange.

Two Guinea pigs, one mostly brown and the other whiter with wilder hair, were lumbering slowly in the leaves ahead of us. I stood there as confused as the dog, and backed up as the little guys approached my shoes.

Did people take their pet Guinea pigs out for nature walks, I wondered? Even now, that seems like such a dumb thought.

The dog's owner wasn't as bewildered as the dog and I were, and he made a dark comment about coyotes, the cold, and certain death, then split.

I stopped long enough to post about my encounter on Facebook and kept running.

Fifteen minutes later, thoughts of the dogs I've loved and people I know began to slow me down. The run wilted to a walk and I looked back toward the darkness overtaking the trees, weighing my options, pondering the fate of pets I didn't care for.

People on Facebook were urging me to call animal shelters, but they were closed. A guy I argue with often but haven't seen in 15 years, told me I had to act.

I thought of my son, at 12 cradling sickly kittens at a Catskills farm, demanding the owner take them all to a vet. I've attended funerals for his hamsters and sigh when he announces he wants to own an animal shelter one day - and a Ferrari.

My ex never met an animal she didn't need, which is why I have smelly ferrets in my house. My girlfriend says it's our civic duty to save helpless creatures, and she's been known to scoop up a cat outside the South Philly Walmart.

I'm more like my dad, reluctant. Once, despite my protests, my kids shamed me into rescuing a snapping turtle from the road, and I could barely control my panic while I Googled the best way to handle one.

There on the trail, Pee Wee Herman and Steve "The Crocodile Hunter" Irwin also popped into my head. I turned around.

A mountain biker helped me find the pigs and together, we coaxed them into a trash can with sticks as if they were spitting cobras.

Sitting in my car with a trash can of Guinea pigs, I scrambled to find someone to take them off my hands.

Who knew there was a "NJ Guinea Pig Rescue and Classifieds" page on Facebook?

An hour later an angel named Elyn Force met me in a high school parking lot. She said people think Guinea pigs are easy and cheap first pets, but they need a lot of care and are often given up for adoption - or worse.

These guys were sick, she said. So she created a GoFundMe page at https://www.gofundme.com/2tms46b7 for people to contribute toward their medical care. By Wednesday afternoon six people had donated $75 for "Creamsicle" and Pudge." So now they have names.

People get rid of pets for all sorts of reasons and I can sympathize with a few of them. It would seem impossible to let a pet go if you loved it. The first dog I owned as an adult was wary of strangers and scary on the outside, only really at peace when she was with me, my children, and my ex. She died in bed with me and I related to her in a way I still can't understand.

The pit bull I adopted at an animal shelter taught me that dogs feel something close to joy, that there's no such thing as too much love.

If this sounds too syrupy or spaced-out over house pets, I'll let Lenny Curtis, a reader from Paulsboro, Gloucester County, end it. He called me this morning after I'd written the first sentence of this piece. He wanted to talk about his dog, Harry.

On Labor Day weekend, Curtis took Harry for a walk and found a St. Francis medal. The next morning, Harry couldn't get up.

Curtis got a tattoo for Harry. He attends a support group for grieving pet owners and he just wanted to tell someone how much he missed his pet.

"He was such a good dog, a great guy."

So maybe someone can look at two lost Guinea pigs and love them, or just like them enough to never leave them alone in the woods.

narkj@phillynews.com

215-854-5916

@jasonnark